Mother
by susies-fandom-wonders
Summary: Anonymous requested Hershel being captured beforehand, when he was a teenager.


Anon said: Hello, don't worry about the Halloween request, I'll request it again next year . Thank you for writing Memories, first it was well-written and second if Clark hadn't know that his butler was Descole it could have happened (I have a headcanon, that before Brenda's got kidnapped Clark didn't knew that Descole was posing as his butler) If you're up to it, could you write something about Layton getting captured by Targent (before Asran Legacy) ? I also read your article about how to write and it was so good and interesting, I'm gonna use your tips next time I'll try to write something so thank you 3. I wish you a good day 3

First of all: ACK THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS ANON, and yeah, I kinda have that same hc.

Second of all: asuhdkjashdjsah how do I write this hmmmmmmmmm

Mother

Hershel wasn't sure what to think when his eyes opened to a completely different setting than his home in Stansbury. His head pounded, each heartbeat sending a shockwave of pain through it. He clenched his teeth, bringing a hand to the side of his head when the clatter of metal against metal reached his ears. He looked down at his arms.

Chains. He was chained. He followed the string of metal to the wall behind him.

Was he… in prison? He blinked; there was no way that he would be in a prison cell. He had done nothing wrong.

Then why did it feel like one? He looked around, his head swimming. He swiped a hand over his large head of hair, and he hit a rather large bump on his head, the hair around the area clumped and somewhat sticky.

"What on Earth…?" His voice came out as a soft mumble as he brought the hand back and brought it to his face.

Blood. He was bleeding. The thought made him shudder. He looked around the area again before opening his mouth again.

"Hello…?" He called out. After a moment of heavy silence, he spoke again. "I don't think I should be here." He pushed away the fear that threatened to grip him as he struggled to find words.

His mother would be terrified if he wasn't home. Lucille Layton was that way, always worrying over nothing; this time, however, it was definitely something to worry about, a big something.

"My parents will be worried if I don't make it home before supper," he tried to the dark, silent room. "I still have homework to do, and it won't do if I don't finish it before tomorrow. My teachers will have my head." How on Earth was he so calm? Hershel couldn't even figure out why he wasn't paralyzed with fear; maybe his head injury had something to do with it.

"My boy," a voice suddenly started, and Hershel whirled his head to the left, "I can assure you that you will be back home before your parents start to worry. If you cooperate, that is." There were lights in the room, and they came on so suddenly that Hershel was temporarily blinded as his vision slowly adjusted.

"I'm sure my mother will throw a fit when she sees this head injury," he said with a frown.

"Sorry about your head." The voice lacked any sort of sympathy, the deep, gravelly tone setting Hershel off. "But we simply cannot let simple bystanders see where we are located." His vision finally adjusted, and Hershel was surprised to see an older man in a blue jacket standing in front of him, his white pants a stark contrast to the darker colors of the room. The boy frowned.

"I think I'm not just a 'simple bystander' if I'm here, isn't that right?" He looked at the man's face, and the large afro of auburn hair gave Hershel a very strong sense of deja vu. He had stern, brick red eyes, and as Hershel took in the man's appearance, the man gave a small chuckle.

"No, you aren't." The man knelt down and looked Hershel in the eyes. "You are here because your mother is dying." Hershel's eyebrows shot up on his forehead. How was Lucille, his mother, here?

"I'm not sure I understand, sir. My mother is at home." The man pursed his lips.

"You don't remember." It was a statement, the red-eyed man's voice flat. "You were too young, my boy." There was soft clinking as the man undid the chains around Hershel's wrists. "But she wanted to see you."

"Who did?" His mother was at home, proabably making a batch of shepherd's pie. It was her favorite dish.

"Your biological mother." Hershel's head was a whirlwind of confusion.

"Wha --"

"She is very close to death, my boy, and her last request was to see you before she went." Hershel was pulled to his feet gently. "Easy there, Theodore." The boy paused, the name sounding so familiar and so natural that Hershel took a moment to tell himself that he was Hershel Layton, not whoever the man claimed him to be.

"I believe you are mistaken, sir. My name is Hershel, not Theodore. You must have gotten me confused with someone else." The man shook his head.

"You are most definitely Theodore, how could I forget one of my sons?... Come along, now."

He was pulled along, and as they exited the room, the man ordered for Hershel to keep his head down. They weaved through small groups of people and several hallways before the man stopped. Hershel looked up as the red-eyed man gave a soft knock on the door before opening it.

"Rachel? Are you awake, honey?" Hershel was pulled gently into the room behind the man, and the door swung closed behind them.

"Leon?" The woman laying in the bed before them looked so much like Hershel that he had to pause for a moment. "Leon, who is that?" Her voice was weak, and there was an oxygen mask around her face, each shaky exhale the woman gave fogging up the clear plastic. 'Leon' motioned Hershel to step forward.

"I managed to find Theodore, just like you wanted. I couldn't find Hershel, but Theodore is here for you now." Rachel immediately perked up, stretching her arms out.

"Theo? Is that you honey?" Hershel bit his lip before taking a step forward. Rachel grabbed his arms. "Oh, Theo, you've grown so much." The boy glanced back at Leon, and was surprised to find the man smiling. Hershel turned back to the sickly woman as she continued.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to be there for you, but you seem to have found someone else to take care of you…." Rachel coughed, her hands squeezing Hershel's as her body shuddered. "I hope your life with them has been happy." Hershel blinked.

"Are you… really my mother?" Rachel gave a sad smile, tears springing into her eyes.

"Of course. Come here." Rachel motioned to the photo next to the bed, and Hershel's eyes fell on a family, looking over Leon and Rachel before his eyes fell to the two figures near the bottom of the photo.

One had red eyes just like Leon, his hair looking almost like Randall's when he was younger. When he looked at the next child, however….

"That's me…?" Hershel couldn't believe his eyes as he did a double-take of the boy that looked so much like him. From the small, charcoal eyes to the smile he gave, there was no doubt that that was a younger version of himself. The Laytons never really had any photos of him from his childhood, and Hershel had never really understood why. Now, he had a logical answer.

"That's you," Rachel said. "That picture was taken before… before we were taken away."

"Why did you leave?" His eyes flitted over the image of him to the older boy. "Who's that?"

"That's your older brother. His name is Hershel." Leon stepped forward and picked up the old photo. "I'm guessing he switched names with you. I can't imagine why." The man's voice had gone softer as he stared at the photograph in his hands.

"We didn't have a choice," Rachel said. "They had threatened to hurt you."

"...Can you… can you tell me what happened?" His mother gave a soft smile, and motioned for him to sit on the bed next to her.

"I can tell you what I can, my dear."

Hershel returned his mother's grin.

Going home could wait for a moment. For now, he wanted to get to know this woman that he used to call 'mother'.


End file.
